


Ghost Stories

by then00breturns1101



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic W. D. Gaster, But mostly angst, Dadster, Exorcisms, Fluff, Gen, Good gaster - Freeform, Grillby is Fuku's dad, M/M, Skateboard girl is named asha, Slow Burn, Things Get Worse, Torture, Trans Female Character, Trans Fuku Fire, Trans Grillby, Trans Male Character, adopted sans and papyrus, fuku/skateboard girl is a background ship, gaster was forgotten, ghost au, ghost banishment, grillby is trans, i overuse line breaks, it had to be GHOST STORIES, kind of. it definitely hurts, not fun, of all the animes for this fic to share a name with, sans is probably super ooc... my bad, so is fuku, the author sucks at naming things, you can tear autistic gaster from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-01-29 11:11:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12629703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/then00breturns1101/pseuds/then00breturns1101
Summary: Royal Scientist, husband, and father W. D. Gaster fell into his own creation, destroyed and erased from existence. Even with the barrier broken, he could never return.Or could he?The Font brothers and Grillby are experiencing strange phenomena in their homes. What could be the cause?Updates Sundays.also it's finals/ap season so i am trying to write but. h. help i am not good at managing timeEDIT: this fic is NOT, in ANY way, affiliated with that one anime with the ridiculous dub. You know the one.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Spark In The Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5272679) by [Zoebirb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoebirb/pseuds/Zoebirb). 



> okay so i'm doing this for nanowrimo! i really want to actually finish this fic, and i have an outline and everything. hope you all enjoy!

The barrier is broken. Humans and monsters have been living together for over a year now. They have finally seen the sun, or if they cannot see, they have felt it.

Every monster… except one.

 

* * *

 

 

_20XX_

_Six years ago…_

_“Sir, the core is approaching dangerous levels of overheating. You should unplug your devices and vacate the premises.”_

_“I have this under control, Doctor --------, but thank you for your concern. I will be out in ten minutes. Meet me there.”_

_A tall, lanky skeleton monster bustles about his lab. These power levels are the only way he can test out his machine. With this, he could save the entire underground from their prison, and Asgore wouldn’t have to collect anymore souls. The poor king was tortured enough by that already._

_The scientist turns knobs, pulls levers, and flicks switches until, at last, he is satisfied. He still needs to be careful. The situation is dangerous, but he needs to start his testing now. He might not get another chance like this again._

_Besides, it’s not like he isn’t being careful. He has so much to lose, after all._  
  


What a shame careful wasn’t enough, _he would have thought. That is, had he not been screaming in agony from his soul, his very existence, being torn to shreds by the very machine meant to save them all._

* * *

 

Grillby closed down the bar after another routine day. Life had been good ever since they had moved up to the surface. Though his daughter didn’t live with him anymore, she was close by and visited when she could. He had taken Sans and Papyrus under his wing years ago, too, though never knew exactly why, save for that they needed a parental figure and he had been there to offer one. They, too, lived in their own house.

Grillby wished that their visits could be a little less… late at night sometimes. Sans came here to eat often, but on some nights, he’d just come to get drunk, ramble, and cry. Grillby was always there with a kind word and a shoulder to cry on, followed by a call to Papyrus whenever it was that Sans would pass out. If it was late enough he’d just carry him home.

Tonight, the bar didn’t feel exactly empty. Grillby couldn’t see or hear anyone, but it was just that nagging feeling of something- or someone- being _there_ that he couldn’t shake off. He was stoic enough not to be scared; there was plenty more to fear than whatever that thing was.

That didn’t stop him from looking back behind him when he went upstairs to his room.

 

* * *

 

 

_A shadow lurks, unheard and unseen. It glimpses the face of a man once beloved. The shadow remains forgotten, and heartbroken._

* * *

 

“HELLO, SANS! I’M HOME!” an enthusiastic voice greeted. Sans sat up on the couch.

“oh, hey bro. didja get the groceries?”

“YES, I DID! I WOULD NEVER FORGET SOMETHING SO CRUCIAL ON NOODLE NIGHT!” Papyrus assured, setting several bags on the kitchen counter. Since he’d started taking actual cooking lessons, he’d greatly expanded his repertoire of recipes, but kept a fondness for noodles and pasta. “DID YOU CALL TORIEL YET?”

“yup. she and frisk’ll be here in ten,” Sans replied while starting to put away the groceries.

“WONDERFUL! IT HAS BEEN A WHILE SINCE WE’VE SEEN THE HUMAN!” Truthfully, it had only been a week. But that’s a long time to wait for a friend.

Noodle night passed relatively uneventfully. Frisk and Toriel came and went, and all the food was eaten. It seemed like it would be a completely normal night.

It was not.

 

At around 11 PM, Sans was on the couch, watching TV but not paying attention. He thought he heard someone behind him and turned around.

“hey papyrus. can’t sleep?”

To his surprise, the entire first floor was empty and dark. Sans shivered a bit and turned on the light. That was creepy.  
…It must have been his imagination.

 

* * *

 

 

_The shadow watches, smiling at a son blissfully unaware. How it wishes to hold him again. It fades away with bittersweet love._


	2. Haunts

Grillby had been noticing an unpleasant trend in his business. There were fewer customers, and those who came wouldn’t stay long. He was starting to lose money, and it wasn’t good. He needed to figure out what had changed.

The only thing that had changed in such a short timespan was that… _thing._ The nagging feeling of being watched, that someone else was there…

Grillby had never been a superstitious person. He didn’t believe in ghosts, and wasn’t even that spiritual or religious at all. The whole prophecy about the angel was just to give the underground hope until enough humans fell. It was a coincidence that the last one, Frisk, had ended up freeing the monsters. They would have ended up freeing them all regardless, if…

Nevermind. Human or monster, a child’s death wasn’t something he wanted to think about. Grillby went back to closing down the bar, and then he felt the presence again. Okay. Maybe, just maybe, if he ignored it, it would just… go away.

He knew it probably wouldn’t happen that way, but it was worth a shot.

 

No. No it wasn’t.

Things were only getting worse as time went on. Papers rustling and getting scattered across the room, beverages spilling inexplicably, cabinet doors opening and slamming shut, and just general chaos and messiness. Customers were getting more and more reluctant to stay. Grillby’s patience was wearing very, very thin. It had to be that presence.

One night, Grillby was cleaning up the bar after closing when he saw a shadow move from the corner of his eye. He sighed and straightened up.

“Look,” he began, trying to make his quiet voice firm, “I don’t know who or _what_ you are, but you need to stop scaring away my customers. You might not be aware of it, but I rely on this place to make a living. No customers mean I don’t eat for the week. Okay? So just calm your haunting.”

…Silence. The temperature shifted a couple degrees warmer, then cold again.

“Alright, it’s a deal,” he finished, going back to his work before getting ready for bed. He didn’t feel the presence in his room, but somehow falling asleep that night was easier.

He never heard the quiet thanks he got from the shadows.

 

* * *

 

 

The skeleton household was experiencing similar phenomena to Grillby. Bowls of spaghetti would inexplicably spill, notes would slip from the magnets on the fridge, pens would roll across the table with nothing pushing them, and even the quantum physics and joke books would be opened up. Something was fishy, and both brothers were onto it.

“Sans, do you think…” Papyrus paused, speaking much more quietly than normal. They were sitting at the table eating dinner. “Do you think we have a ghost?”

Sans shrugged, poking at his food.

“i dunno, paps. maybe we shouldn’t jump to concl _ouija_ ions,” he quipped, grinning at his brother. Papyrus frowned.

“THAT WAS A STRETCH AND YOU KNOW IT.”

“cmon bro, just trying to get into the _spirit_ of things.”

“SANS, ENOUGH OF THIS! GHOSTS DON’T EVEN LIKE PUNS!”  
“well, tell me if they _haunt_ to change their minds.” Papyrus got up and started clearing the table.

“NO MORE OF THIS.”

“aw, are you un _table_ to handle it?”

“GOODBYE!” He walked up the stairs to his room. Sans finished clearing the table, still laughing. When he thought he could hear a second voice laughing, he went quiet. Okay. All jokes aside, this was starting to get creepy. _Really_ creepy. He looked around and swore he saw something move.

“okay, look. whatever you are, if you do _anything_ to hurt papyrus, i will get a ouija board or something, hunt you down, and tear you a new one. capiche?” He looked around, trying to keep a menacing expression. There was silence and it felt like it got a degree or so colder. Sans nodded. “yeah, you better stay quiet. don’t forget the whole papyrus thing.” He turned and walked up the stairs and into his room.

Sans sat on his mattress and sighed. Okay. This was definitely really, really weird and honestly, he wanted it to stop. But hey, maybe giving this thing the benefit of the doubt would be okay. He could ask for advice later, or if things went sour.

 

Downstairs, the presence in the shadows shifted and the corner became cold. It knew that Sans was only being protective of his brother, but it still did hurt somewhat to feel such unfiltered cold aggression from his own son. He’d need to be careful in trying to get specific contact with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so chapters for this fic will be fairly short, sorry about that! i am still a beginner writer, after all


	3. Communication

Why was it always the _pens?_

If they were out on the table, they’d roll off. If they were in a cup, the cup would be spilled. Anything that could be used to write was affected in some way, and oftentimes they ended up broken, with ink stains everywhere. Papers were transitioning from getting rustled to torn apart, and Grillby once came home to find a pen that had been jabbed into the table so forcefully it stayed upright.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake… _cut it out!”_ he yelled. “I don’t have the money to keep buying pens _and_ to replace my table, okay?” That request, he had hoped, would quell the incidents, but they continued until every last writing utensil was unusable.

Grillby was considering just banishing whatever this was for good, but stopped to think. Why _was_ it the pens and paper? Was this thing trying to communicate? It would make sense… maybe they weren’t able to properly use pens and paper yet. Who knew how incorporeal beings worked. Or would it be semicorporeal? That distinction wasn’t important for now.

“Ok, look. If you stop destroying my pens, I’ll find you an easier way to communicate. Okay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Grillby started cleaning up the mess, and then left the bar.

 

The presence had agreed to the conditions, even without Grillby being explicitly aware. He just wanted to talk to him. It had been so long…

It hurt to be without the people you loved.

 

* * *

 

 

Grillby came back half an hour later holding a plastic bag from the store. He opened up a thin package and started taking magnetic letters out and placing them on the fridge. The presence smiled. This could actually work.

“If you want to say something, use these. Try not to break anything or make a huge mess, okay?” Grillby asked. Feeling the room’s temperature rise a bit, he nodded. That seemed to be a “yes.” He went into the living room and started working on something on his computer while the presence attempted to arrange the letters.

It wasn’t easy, but it would certainly be easier than trying to write on paper. The problem that kept happening was that he would knock letters off the fridge and then be unable to pick them up properly. Pretty soon there was an alphabet soup on the floor and no words on the fridge. Dammit. This was frustrating.

Grillby felt a wave of heat from the kitchen and looked up. There were letters all over the floor. He sighed. This was going to take a while. And a lot of patience.

 

 

A week later, the presence had finally gotten the hang of arranging the letters without dropping them. It would form patterns by color first, then put the alphabet all together, and practice like that. It didn’t want to actually start talking until it knew it was ready. And finally, it felt it was. So it pushed all the letters aside and spelled a word in the blank space.

_HI_

It was a start. A small one, but a start. Now it just needed Grillby to notice.

 

He walked into the kitchen from the main bar area, carrying armfuls of dirty dishes, and almost dropped them all in his surprise. He put them down before going to the fridge.

“So, you can finally communicate now?”

_YES_

“Huh. So I really do have a ghost,” Grillby acquiesced, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “What’s your name?”

There was a pause. Grillby was starting to wonder if he’d get a response at all when the letters started moving again. Ok, he couldn’t deny that this was creepy as hell, but he was getting an answer.

_GASTER_

…

Gaster.

Grillby paused. That name sounded familiar. Maybe… maybe a customer he’d recently had? Someone he knew before the barrier? A human on the news?

“It’s nice to meet you, Gaster,” he greeted amicably. Best to stay on good terms for now. Despite his friendliness, though, the temperature dropped abruptly. Grillby shivered and his flames dimmed.

“What’s wrong?”

 

_He didn’t remember. He couldn’t remember. No. It all failed…_

_NOTHING_

“Alright… well, my name’s Grillby,” he said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “I’m glad we were able to work out a way to communicate.

Gaster smiled, even though no one could see.

_ME TO_

They might need more letters in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jsyk chapters are probably gonna range from 700-800 words. they're not long, but there's gonna be a decent amount of them i hope? i'm not good at long stories


	4. Shattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I AM SO SORRY!!!  
> life has been totally kicking my ass and i'm so sorry for missing two updates!  
> i'll try to stay on schedule ;_;

While Gaster and Grillby were having moderate success communicating, Gaster was finding it much harder to do the same with Papyrus and Sans. They were a lot more…. Paranoid. Well, no. Sans was. Given the opportunity, Papyrus would’ve bought a Ouija board and invited Mettaton and Napstablook over for a séance, but Sans would never let that happen.

Sans had never been a very superstitious person, but this was some weird shit that he wasn’t going to take lightly. If this house _was_ haunted, he didn’t want anyone near and dear to him hurt. Especially Papyrus. He wasn’t dumb by any means, but he was _so_ trusting and naïve. Those were traits that could get him in a lot of trouble.

Especially with something as weird and otherworldly as this.

 

Sans started making note of every strange thing that happened in a journal. One that he kept with him at all times so it wouldn’t be destroyed like every other damn writing utensil in the house. And the paper. And three lightbulbs and a plate. And the refrigerator door. That had cost a decent amount to fix. He was sick and tired of this and he just wanted it to _stop._

 

 

Gaster knew that he shouldn’t be destroying things. It wasn’t helping his case. He wasn’t getting anywhere. But _dammit,_ he wanted to try. He had to. He missed his sons so, _so_ much that it was hard to bear any longer. Even though he knew they couldn’t miss him. They couldn’t even remember him.

Most of the stuff he broke was accidental, too. He just wanted to use the pens and pencils to write, but his lack of control meant things got broken and torn. He tried hinting at them to buy magnets but only broke the fridge and dented a cabinet. In the ensuing panic, three lightbulbs and a plate were shattered. He had taken note that if he had strong negative emotions, it was more likely that something would be broken. Which made him anxious that he would break something. Which resulted in him breaking something. Which made him panic. Which made him break something else.

It was a painful vicious cycle that was, ironically, the hardest thing to break.

The phenomenon wasn’t just happening in his sons’ house, either. He was doing the same things at Grillby’s. The atmosphere over there was getting more and more tense.

 

* * *

 

 

It was 7 PM on Thursday night. Closing time was in two hours, and customers were thinning out. It didn’t seem like there would be any drama tonight, luckily. With Gaster around, he had more than enough drama to deal with outside of work. He was just really, really tired.

Just when he thought the night would end peacefully, he heard something fall and shatter. God dammit. He sighed, addressing the customers.

“I need to take care of something. I’ll be right back.”

He walked through the door into the kitchen, groaning when he saw that a full glass of water had fallen, spilled, and broken. He looked at the fridge.

_IM SORY_

_Fat lot of good that does me,_ he thought as he threw away the broken glass and put some gloves on to clean up the water. Dammit, if Gaster was going to be like this, he wouldn’t be able to stay long before Grillby’s patience was gone.

 

Gaster sighed, sitting in the corner. _Come on, pull yourself together,_ he muttered to himself with no one else to hear. _You need to be calm. If you break too many more things, he’s going to banish you, and then you’ll be alone again. It’s going to hurt if that happens. Just stay calm. Stop breaking things. Don’t get banished. If you’re alone it’ll be even worse and it’s going to hurt and you’ll never see them again and they’ll never remember you and you’ll be alone and rejected forever with no one there to help you._

Yeah, that helped cheer him up a lot. He could feel the plates on the drying rack rattling. Maybe he should go see Sans and Papyrus for a bit.

As long as nothing got broken there, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was short,, please leave feedback in the comments! even a small comment really makes my day and motivates me to keep writing


	5. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! on time!

_-Days in the future, but not many.-_

_Shit shit shit okay time to panic time to PANIC._

_You’ve really done it this time, Gaster. You’re really, truly, absolutely fucked._

 

* * *

 

 

He had been having a good week, and was managing to keep his emotions in check. More conversations with Grillby had probably been contributing to his recovery, but there seemed to be something else. He wasn’t entirely sure what until Grillby addressed it in a conversation.

 

The morning of, he woke up and got dressed as usual, putting on his binder. They still didn’t exactly know how to do top surgery for monsters, which sucked, but the last thing he wanted was to endure transphobia from the humans. Most of his customers were nice, but some were some real shitheads.

He went downstairs, making himself breakfast, when he heard breathing behind him. He whirled around, wielding his spatula, but nobody was there. There was a sharp gasp, then quiet. Grillby looked at the fridge.

“Was… was that you? The breathing?”

He watched as the letters arranged themselves.

_YES_

“Woah. So I can hear you now, huh? Can you talk?”

_IL TRY_

A quiet and incomprehensible whisper emanated from somewhere in the room. No matter how hard he tried, Grillby couldn’t make out the words.

“I’m sorry, I… I can’t seem to understand you,” he said, still kind of freaked out about the whole deal. The letters moved again.

_OH_

_IT OK, USE LR_

“…you’ll use the... letters?”

_YES_

“Ah, I get it.” Grillby laughed. “I should buy some more of those, shouldn’t I?”

_YES THANK U_

The room warmed just a bit. Gaster smiled. He loved Grillby’s laugh. He had missed it so much.

 

Sans and Papyrus’ laughs had been dearly missed, too. He would sit and listen to them talking, joking, watching movies, and just…living. Existing. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t jealous of his sons. Even over something as simple as this.

No, he wasn’t jealous of them.

He just wanted to be with them.

It could be worse, he supposed. At least he could see them grow and live and change, he could see Sans going through college on the surface, he could see Papyrus improve the cooking he had always loved, he could be there. Even if he wasn’t there. Even if his sons didn’t know he was there, and didn’t care, because they _couldn’t,_ because they didn’t even remember him.

He shook himself out of his thoughts. That wasn’t a good mindset to have; it’d only lead him worse into a depressive spiral. Well, he was already _in_ it, but there was no need to worsen things for himself. He just needed to try and communicate with Sans and Papyrus without making things worse.

 

That was going to go wrong.

 

Not only would it go wrong, but it would go _horribly_ wrong, and lead to disastrous results.

 

* * *

 

 

Everything was fine at first. They were eating dinner, and he was sitting in one of the chairs. His sons were talking and laughing, but Gaster could feel the unease in Sans. He knew that something was up, that something was off. And he was right. He had always had amazing intuition.

As Gaster got more invested, he heard something shift. It was the chair he had been sitting on. The room went silent. Gaster quickly got up, trying not to affect everything, but he could feel himself moving things ever so slightly. Enough to be noticed. Sans and even Papyrus were looking scared. This wasn’t good.

“hey, paps, let’s… sleep at undyne’s tonight, okay?” suggested Sans. Papyrus nodded.

“Yeah, that seems like it would be… a good idea.” His voice was quieter than usual. He got his phone out and texted Undyne. In just a few minutes, they were ready to go and leave Gaster behind as he could feel everything falling apart again.

No, he could… he could save this. He just needs to communicate, to tell them, to show them that it was only him, it was only him, he just wanted to talk to them again. He moved across the house, trying to do something, _any_ thing to stop them.

He flew by a shelf over Papyrus’ head.

It started to move erratically.

A heavy, poorly balanced book started to tip.

It started falling toward Papyrus’ skull.

 

Gaster stood there, horrified, helpless, and watched as Papyrus ducked and Sans was barely able to catch the book with his blue magic. He stared at it, then at Papyrus, then at the shelf. His eye sockets were dark with fear.

Sans took Papyrus’ hand and they both ran out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate!  
> looks like things are heading downhill for our skeleton dad... i wonder how this will backfire in the future?  
> (pun very much intended)  
> ;)


	6. Torn Apart Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you are gonna either hate or love this chapter and it's probably the former

“So you’ve really got a ghost, huh?” Undyne asked, sitting at the table with the skeleton brothers.

“YEAH! I TOLD YOU ABOUT ALL THE STUFF WITH THE DISHES AND THE PAPER, BUT NOW IT TRIED TO DROP A BOOK ON MY HEAD!”

“Man, I wish that thing was real so I could punch the crap out of it! Nobody hurts you on my watch!”

“YOU WEREN’T WATCHING, THOUGH.”

“Paps, you know what I meant.”

“I DO.”

As Papyrus and Undyne were talking, Sans was on the computer looking up some sort of reliable exorcism service. Or ghost banishment. Whatever the thing was, it needed to be gone. Now. Immediately. ASAP. Pronto.

Finding a source that looked reputable was… difficult. Half of them were joke sites, and the rest of them were written by the kind of people who thought monsters were the ones who needed to be banished. This wasn’t going to be easy. Clearly, he needed to dig deeper.

 

Three days later, he had found a solution.

 

Three days later, Gaster was spiraling down.

 

He knew he was screwed. He had messed up really, really badly. He didn’t even know what was happening with Sans and Papyrus. Talking to Grillby was his only release, and it was easier now that he had bought a second set of letters, but Grillby had a job and didn’t have all day to work. Gaster had to keep himself from destroying anything, but it was getting harder and harder to control by the day. Grillby, being understanding after Gaster had told him about his plight, started to leave out destroyable items like old papers, broken objects, and worn clothing so that Gaster could break and tear things when he needed to let it out.

Things could only get so much better while Gaster was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Something was going to happen. Sans and Papyrus were going to do _something._ He just didn’t know when, and it was making him sick with anxiety.

 

And then, the axe finally fell and struck true.

 

 

Gaster was visiting Sans and Papyrus’ house like he usually did every day. It was empty again, but then he heard the door click. Hope swelled in his soul as Sans and Papyrus walked in… followed by a man dressed in black. A priest.

_No._

_Please, no._

“So, how long have these supernatural occurrences been happening?” he asked, looking around.

“’bout two weeks. got kinda serious lately. things were breaking and falling and moving, and what made us decide to find a solution was when a book almost fell on papyrus’ skull,” Sans explained. The preacher frowned and nodded.

“I do sense a… dark presence currently here with us,” he stated. Worn hands opened the leather bag he was holding and started to take out several bottles, jars, and candles. “First, we must bind it here so it cannot escape. Then, we shatter its attachment to this house and banish it.”

“HOW DO YOU DO THAT?” asked Papyrus, ever curious.

“It’s simple, but requires a decent amount of energy. First, you…” Gaster stopped listening. He couldn’t listen anymore. He couldn’t get himself to _move._ He had to, he needed to escape, but he just couldn’t bring himself to.

A few seconds later he was very aware of a heavy weight on his chest, which then spread to pressure all over him. It felt like he was being constricted by some giant, invisible snake. The sensation was slowly growing from discomfort to pain as his panic increased. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t escape. He was trapped here.

The priest started lighting candles and saying words that Gaster could neither make out not understand. He started yelling, screaming, pleading for someone to hear him and understand. Objects rattled on shelves and a vase fell over and shattered. The pain in his chest grew until it was nearly unbearable. He couldn’t take this for much longer. It had to stop. Stop stop stop _stop stop please stop-_

“I hereby banish thee from this home! Be gone, spirit, and never return!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Pain._

 

He would have tried to find the words to describe it further, but… all he could do was scream. He never thought that anything would have been worse than falling into the CORE, but oh, was this worse. His soul was being ripped, burned, stabbed, _crushed,_ and it hurt more with every second. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t _think._

 

He just wanted it to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi if you think next chapter's gonna be smiles and rainbows and sunshine, i'm sorry


	7. Destroyed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i warned you

_Dark._  
Darker, yet darker.  
The darkness kept growing.

* * *

 

He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t feel anything but pain.

What had they _done_ to him?

Gaster was vaguely aware of some presence of warmth. Of noise. Of bright lights and moving pictures.

He came to just enough to where he could realize what was going on. He was at Grillby’s, but the place was empty. Right. Closed on Sundays. Why did he remember that, of all things?

He focused more. He was moving. Fast, and erratically. He never moved like this, unless he was… having a meltdown…

Shit.

More focus. Everything was blurred. He could hear crashing and clattering. Things were flying off shelves and falling over. There was screaming. It took him a second to realize it was his own.

Wait.

Breaking. He was breaking things. He was destroying things _he was destroying Grillby’s bar fuck no no no now he was going to be banished from this place too no NO NO NO—_

 

His vision went black again as his unconscious rampage went on.

 

Ten minutes that felt like an hour later, he was in the kitchen, curled up in the corner and shaking as things continued to rattle, shake, and occasionally fall around him. This— this strange amalgam of a panic attack and meltdown had finally run its course.

And left one hell of an aftermath in its wake.

All the stools in the bar were knocked over and two were broken. Cushions were torn. Bottles of liquor were shattered on the floor, spilling their contents all over the polished wood. There appeared to be claw marks on some things. In the kitchen, the cabinets were swung open and one door was off its hinges. Dishes and glasses were shattered and silverware was scattered across the floor. There was a steak knife embedded half an inch into the wall. The living room floor was covered in papers and documents torn to shreds. The chair had been upended and the pillows were leaking feathers.

Gaster couldn’t bring himself to look at the damage. He curled in on himself, still feeling immense pain in his chest, trying to stop himself from affecting anything else. Quiet, hoarse whimpers escaped him. He felt awful.

And then the door clicked open.

 

* * *

 

 

Grillby walked into the bar and locked the door behind him, turning on the light. When he turned around, bags of groceries in his arms, he dropped them in shock.

_What._

_The hell._

_Just._

_Happened._

_To his bar._

He heard another plate shatter from the kitchen and his flames grew hot, angry white sparks. _Gaster._ He had _trusted_ him, he’d let him stay, he had _talked_ to him, and _this_ was how he thanked him??

This was not going to stand.

He walked through the bar into the kitchen, flames rising in temperature with every piece of damage he took in. Grillby was a hard person to make angry. But when he got angry, it was not something anyone wanted to be on the receiving end of.

A situation Gaster was now finding himself in.

 

Grillby looked around the kitchen and saw something move in the corner.

“Oh, real funny, huh?” he started, voice laced with sarcasm and anger. “After everything, you just decide to wreck the whole place? Do you have any idea how long I’ll have to be closed because of this? How much money I’ll lose??”

He had gotten started, and there was no stopping him. His voice was breaking from the volume he almost never attained. Grillby was _fucking pissed_.

“I let you stay! I talked to you! And you promised you _wouldn’t_ destroy shit! So, what, tell me, _what_ the hell just happened?” When he received nothing but a whimper in reply, it only incensed him further. “Right, yeah, ‘cause you can’t _talk._ Real practical. Don’t you fucking dare touch those fridge magnets. This thing’ll cost a fortune to fix.”

…Silence. Gaster was covering his mouth, tears streaming from his eyes, to try and stop any sounds from escaping. Grillby scowled at the corner where he was hidden.

“You’ve given up your shot, Gaster. Have fun with that.”

 

* * *

 

 

By the end of the night, Grillby had called repair companies for the damage and ordered new dishes and more liquor to replace what had been broken. Every one of the fridge magnets, Gaster’s last link of communication to the last person he could talk to, was in the trash. He felt like he had just been torn apart again.

The way Grillby had been yelling, _screaming_ at him…

…he was never going to forget that, no matter how hard he tried.

 

No matter how hard everyone would try to forget _him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gaster isn't doing so good is he


	8. Finding a Solution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor gaster

_Someone was crying. Grillby could hear them. He felt like he needed to help. It was an urge he didn’t fight._

_He couldn’t see the person’s face, but he could feel them as he hugged them to give comfort. They were thin and light, and frail. They clung to him as they kept crying. Just as Grillby was about to ask what was going on, he woke up._

 

…huh. Weird dream. Who was that crying person, anyways? Was it some weird metaphor? Maybe it just had something to do with what happened ye—

Oh. Right. The entire bar got trashed.

Grillby groaned and rolled over in bed, curling up under the covers. He didn’t really want to get up today. No, he _really didn’t_ want to get up today. Not with this mess to fix. There was so much to do, and he just had no energy at all. None whatsoever.

Well, he’d have to close the bar anyways.

He got up, groaning, and walked downstairs to the front of the bar just to tape a note to the door to explain the bar would be “closed until further notice due to maintenance.” That’d do for now. His bank account would just have to survive the hit. He’d be eating noodles for the next couple weeks.

 

As Grillby began the slow cleanup, he deliberately ignored any sign of that fucking ghost. He needed to get rid of it. Sans had talked about having similar problems, and though Grillby never mentioned his own experience, he was now debating calling Sans and asking him what he had done. He might need it.

Gaster, meanwhile, just watched. He tried to stay as invisible as possible to avoid any more aggression. He couldn’t get that image out of his mind, and he doubted he’d be able to. Grillby had _never_ yelled, much less at _him._ It hadn’t felt natural. It hadn’t felt right. It wasn’t Grillby.

But that was exactly where the distinction lay. It _had_ been Grillby.

But to Grillby, it wasn’t _Gaster._

* * *

 

The day was long and exhausting for both of them. Grillby would shoot glares every time he heard a noise out of place. Gaster just tried to stay out of the way. He didn’t want to cause any more trouble. Maybe if he was good, and quiet, Grillby would get the letters back out and he could explain everything. Maybe.

…it was worth a shot, right?

 

Three long days later, and there were no further incidents. Most of the house was cleaned up and Grillby had bought replacements for some of the broken items. People would be coming to replace the bar couches the next day. There was just one more problem Grillby would have to deal with.

The ghost that had caused this was still in his house.

That night, he sat down and dialed Sans’ number. After a couple rings, he picked up.

“hey grillbz. what’s up?” said the tired voice on the other line.

“Hey. Remember when you were talking about that… thing in your house?” he began.

“yeah. why?”

“I may have a… similar problem. My place got completely trashed a few days ago.”

“oh man, that sucks. alright, i know a guy.”

“You do? Great! Was he the one who got rid of your ghost?” Grillby’s voice rose with hope while the temperature of the room dropped with Gaster’s fear.

“yep. didn’t have any more problems after that. here, i’ll give you the number…”

Gaster stopped listening. No. No no no this was bad this was _really fucking bad._ He’d be banished from this place too, and then he’d have nowhere to go and nobody to talk to, and he might not even exist anymore. For all he knew, he’d just die for good. Without anyone remembering him. Without getting the chance to really _see_ his loved ones again. He was going to disappear, forgotten.

Nobody would ever remember him.

And there was nothing he could do.

 

Grillby hung up from the call, putting the piece of paper with the number on it in his pocket so it wouldn’t be messed with. He’d call in the morning and make an appointment soon. Hopefully it would _finally_ fix the problem.

And said problem was panicking downstairs, terrified of being fixed.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	9. Solution, part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god guys i am SO SORRY for how late this chapter is!!!! i might try to do a slower update schedule because chool is a pain in the butt so expect new chapters on wednesdays but no guarantees sorry!!

He needed to stop this. He had nothing to lose anymore. He just needed to stop Grillby.

He was going to bed, having made the decision to call in the morning. When he was under the covers, Gaster started tapping the floor. _Ti-ti-ti. Tah-tah-tah. Ti-ti-ti._ An S.O.S. signal. Hopefully, Grillby would understand it. It was his last hope.

 

Okay. The tapping was starting to get _really_ annoying. Grillby was tempted to just ignore it, but… the pattern… he knew he had heard it somewhere before. It took him a little while to remember, but once he did, he stopped to think.

An S.O.S. signal, and it was clearly from the ghost.

…maybe one last conversation for it to explain was in order.

“Okay, you can stop tapping. I won’t call the guy yet. I got your message. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

As requested, the tapping stopped. Grillby sighed and curled up, tugging the blanket closer. This was going to be an… interesting conversation. It took him a while to fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, he sat down with a pen and a piece of paper, laying it out.

“Alright. Just write what you want to say,” he offered, motioning to the paper. He received nothing in response but a whisper. Grillby sighed.

“Do you want me to get the magnets again? Roll the pen for yes.” The pen rolled. “Alright. Be back in ten.”

He left the bar with some money in his pocket. He really couldn’t afford to buy more of these, but whatever. He was too tired to care anymore.

Ten minutes later, as promised, Grillby returned with a new pack of magnets and put them on the fridge. Almost immediately, they began arranging themselves into words.

_IM SORY_

He sighed. “Yeah, okay, that helps a lot. Thanks.” The presence almost seemed to flinch.

_PLS DNT MAK ME GO_

They had cleverly used an upside-down W to make another M.

“Why should I let you stay? You wrecked the place! Unless it was another thing and not you?”

_IT WAS ME_

“So why should I let you stay?”

_DIN MEA TO_

The words were getting harder to understand. “You… didn’t mean to?”

_YES_

Shit, wait, that was confusing. “So, did you mean to?”

_NO_

“Why did you do it, then?”

_MELTDOWN  
LOT F PAIN_

“So, you… broke stuff because you were in pain? What happened?”

_EXORCISD_

Ouch. That couldn’t have been pleasant. “From where?”

_SAN PYRU_

“Wait, what? _You’re_ the ghost that was messing up their place, too?”

_YES_

“Why? And why me, too?”

_CONEKTD_

“We’re connected? Like, Sans and Papyrus and I?”

_ME TO U_

“You’re connected to us. How?”

_CAN U REMB_

“Can I… remember? Remember what? I don’t know who you are.”

_GASTER_

“No, I know _that_ , but… what do you have to do with us?”

_NVM  
NO USE TLG_

“…Alright,” he sighed again. So the ghost here was the same ghost as the brothers’ place. Great. That made things ridiculously more complicated and didn’t help his matters at all!

“Look, Gaster, I want to let you stay, but I literally can’t afford this kind of thing to keep happening. How do I know it won’t happen again?”

_CANT BE XORISD_

“You’ve got a point. You can’t be exorcised from the same place twice, and I won’t banish you as long as you’re not a problem. So… you’ll be harmless?”

_MAYBE  
MORE UNSTABL_

“…So this kind of meltdown _can_ happen again?” Grillby groaned, exasperated.

 _NOT AS BD_  
_BUT MAYE_  
 _IL TRY_  
 _CONTRLG IT_

Gaster had to create new phrases over and over to manage with fewer letters. It was getting harder to understand. “What do you mean, controlling it?” Grillby asked.

 _STIL HAPEN_  
_BU I CAN TRY_  
 _LIMTNG_  
 _DAMGE_

“What, like, limiting damage to one corner of the house?”

_YES IF U WANT_

“Yeah, that sounds good. You can kinda scratch up the walls in the corner of my bedroom, just try to keep it discreet. If I’m in there, do it downstairs… behind the shelf. I’ll move it to leave space and I can cover it back up when people come over. That work?”

_YES THANK U_

Grillby nodded. He didn’t know why he was putting up with this thing for so long, really.

_SRY FO EVTHNG_

“It’s fine. But I’m serious. If you pull a stunt like that again, you’re out for good. Am I clear?” he asked, voice more forceful than usual.

 _YES_  
_WON DESTRY AGI_  
 _AGIN_

“Good. I have work to do, I’ll talk to you later.” He got up and went back upstairs. Gaster sighed, sitting next to the fridge. Everything felt painful. He just wanted it to be okay again.


	10. Going Somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIIIIIIVE  
> no but seriously i am so sorry it's been... two months? that's a long-ass time, and i'm super sorry, i just... _school..._  
>  so this chapter is longer than usual!  
> i'll be updating the schedule, too, and i'll try to make it every sunday. i can't push myself too hard on this or i'll burn out. hope you enjoy!

Days went by, then weeks. Things were getting better now. Gaster was improving his communication, and Grillby had bought more refrigerator magnets. There was no further conflict with Sans or Papyrus, although Gaster did feel heartbroken and pained every time they would enter the bar or have a friendly visit. One such occasion went worse than the others.

 

“hey grillbz. how’s it going?”

The door chime rang as the skeleton brothers walked into the empty bar. It was right at opening late on a Sunday morning, so it was emptier than it usually would be at this time. Grillby smiled as they walked in.

“Well, thank you. How about both of you? It’s been a while.”

“WE’VE BEEN DOING GREAT!” Papyrus sat down on one of the stools, kicking his feet as Sans climbed up on one beside him. “THE HOUSE IS MUCH CALMER NOW.”

At that moment, Grillby felt the chill that signaled Gaster’s entry into the room. He burned a bit warmer to keep the brothers from noticing. Gaster was already messed up enough about the subject of Sans and Papyrus, and them noticing something off and bringing up the possibility of a ghost would make things much worse. As the three of them began chatting, he prepared each of them a milkshake—mint for Papyrus, and… ketchup for Sans.

“Oh, why’s that?” he asked, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened. The shadows in the corner shifted imperceptibly. Grillby cast them an understanding and hopefully reassuring look while his back was turned to the others.

“WELL, REMEMBER THE GHOST WE TOLD YOU ABOUT? SANS WAS RIGHT! WE MANAGED TO GET RID OF IT. AND NOW STUFF ISN’T WEIRD ANYMORE!” Papyrus seemed almost uncharacteristically cheerful about this. Grillby would’ve expected him to pity a ghost and jump to its defense, so why would he be so happy about Gaster being gone?

“yeah. honestly, ‘s a lot better. thing nearly killed paps! remember that book?”

“YEAH. IT WAS SCARY. I DON’T KNOW WHY A GHOST WOULD BE SO AGGRESSIVE, BUT CLEARLY, THIS ONE WASN’T VERY NICE. I DIDN’T REALLY WANT ANYONE TO GET HURT, REALLY, INCLUDING MYSELF. HOW CAN I HELP PEOPLE IF MY HEAD IS GONE?” Grillby had to chuckle at that.

“That’s a good point. Best to stay alive. People care about you both.”

“yeah, you sap. we know.” Sans took on an annoyed tone, but the soft smile on his face betrayed his appreciation. It was nice having a protective figure like Grillby in their lives. Even if it felt like something was still missing.

“BUT!” Papyrus interjected, “THE GHOST IS NOT DEAD! OR, AT LEAST, AS NOT DEAD AS A GHOST CAN REALLY BE. THE MAN IN THE STRANGE TUXEDO—” “priest, paps.” “—YES, THE PRIEST, SAID THAT IT WASN’T DESTROYED. AND THAT IT WAS PROBABLY SOMEWHERE ELSE. MAYBE IN ANOTHER HOUSE! AND HOPEFULLY A BIT LESS DESTRUCTIVE.”

“Oh, really?” Grillby replied, pretending to not know anything about the possibility that that ghost in particular could possibly be living in his home. “That must be interesting for whoever received him.”

“INDEED! IT CERTAINLY WAS FOR US.” Papyrus took a sip of his shake before his expression changed to something confused.

“Something wrong with the shake?” Grillby asked, sitting on the other side of the bar. Papyrus shook his head.

“NO, IT’S DELICIOUS. BUT HOW DO YOU KNOW IF THE GHOST IS A HIM?”

_Oh, shit. He let that slip._

“Well, I don’t, of course. I was just guessing. There’s a high chance I could be wrong,” he explained, hoping neither of the brothers noticed the nervous flicker around his face. Papyrus, at least, appeared to accept the reasoning.

“OF COURSE! IT COULD BE A LADY GHOST. OR A NON-LADY NON-GENTLEMAN GHOST, LIKE NAPSTABLOOK!”

“bro, we can see napsta,” Sans deadpanned. “if it was them, we’d have known who was knocking stuff of the blookshelf.” He winked. Grillby chuckled and Papyrus groaned.

“SAAAANS! YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN! YOUR JOKES ARE REALLY NOT HELPFUL.”

“aw, c’mon. just tryin’ to help r-ecto-fy the situation.” That pun was met with silence from the room. Even Gaster didn’t seem to react.

“…What?”

“r-ecto-fy? ecto? like, ectoplasm? don’t tell me i’m the only ghostbusters fan here.”

“UNFORTUNATELY, IT WOULD SEEM YOU ARE. ANYWAYS. THANK YOU FOR THE MILKSHAKES, GRILLBY! WE’RE GOING TO THE PARK WITH ASGORE AND FRISK. WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN US LATER?”

“Sorry, I can’t. Sunday ends up being a pretty busy restaurant day in the afternoon,” he sighed. “I’d love to, though. I’m closing next Monday. Think we could arrange something then?”

“sure, sounds good. see ya then.” They both got up, milkshakes in to-go cups, and walked out of the bar with another chime from the bell. The temperature dropped immediately. Grillby put up a “back in ten minutes” sign and went to the kitchen. He sat down in front of the fridge.

 

* * *

 

 

Gaster, although he saw him go into the kitchen, didn’t follow yet. He trailed behind Sans and Papyrus as far as he could before watching them turn a corner. There was a painful ache in his soul as he returned inside and floated through the walls to the fridge. Grillby perked up when he felt the presence in the room.

“Hey Gaster, you okay? You feel cold,” he asked, voice soft with concern. Just that made Gaster feel a little better. He missed hearing that tone about him. The letters on the fridge began to move.

_YEAH_

Grillby was skeptical.

“You sure…?” There was a pause.

_NOT REALLY_

“Is it about Sans and Papyrus?”

_YES_

_Knew it,_ thought Grillby.

_I MISS THEM_

_IM SCARED OF BEING BANISHED TOO_

“It’s okay,” he reassured. “I won’t banish you. I promised, remember? You’re safe here, I swear.”

_BUT WHAT IF I MESS UP AGAIN_

_WHAT IF I DESTROY THE PLACE_

“That won’t happen, Gaster. You’re doing better now. You can’t have another breakdown like that triggered again, because you won’t be banished from anywhere else. It’s gonna be okay.”

_OKAY_

He sighed, settling closer to Grillby as he continued to arrange the letters.

_THANK YOU_


	11. Daughter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow! an update on time! that's new

Grillby woke up Saturday morning with a headache. Great. He better not be sick today; his bills needed to be paid soon and missing an entire day’s worth of income was not something he was looking forward to. He just wanted a normal day.

Head still in a cloudy fog, he got dressed and went downstairs. On the dining room table was something he did not expect to see. A sticky note with writing on it.

…He might have a bad memory, but even he would know for sure that he did not write that.

The temperature of the air seemed to warm up as Grillby went up to the note and read it. He smiled as he realized what must have happened. On the note, scrawled in very messy and hard-to-read handwriting, were the words “Good morning.” Period included.

“Hey G, did you leave this?” A slight roll of the pen beside the note indicated what was probably a yes. Grillby smiled again and put the note in his pocket. “Thanks.”

Well, that made his morning just a bit better. It was nice finding stuff from Gaster, and apparently he’d just gained enough control over his form to be able to actually write. That might make communication easier in the future, with some practice.

“You want me to buy you a dry erase board so we can talk more easily? It’d avoid the issue of us needing to always be at the fridge.” The air got warmer again. “Uh, roll the pen again for yes.” They needed a better system. The pen rolled a couple inches across the table.

“Okay, but it’ll have to wait. Money’s tight right now.” _Partly from having to buy a whole other set of magnets,_ he thought, before pushing that away. It was his own fault, not Gaster’s. He couldn’t really figure out what came over him to throw those magnets away to begin with.

With that, he got to work and set up the bar for the day as customers began to arrive. It was going to be a long day.

 

At the end, he was exhausted, and flopped down on the couch. He was about to get ready for bed when he realized that he hadn’t called his daughter, Fuku, in a pretty long time. He should probably give her a call to see if everything was okay. He took out his phone and called her number.

It rang a few times before going to voicemail. She must be busy studying. An art major was all well and good, but she still had academic classes to pass. Grillby was a little relieved, because then he could let Fuku know he was thinking about her without expending the social energy he just didn’t have right now.

“Hey pumpkin, it’s dad, just wanted to check in on you to see how you were doing. It’s been a while since I’ve called. I’m really sorry. I’m pretty much packed schedule-wise from here to… uh, well, for about three weeks, but you should come over with Asha sometime for a visit. Congrats on your third anniversary of dating, by the way! Saw your post on Undernet. You’re a real ladies’ lady.” He pauses, smiling. “Anyways, just calling to let you know I miss you. The house is awfully quiet without a rambunctious teen running around all the time.” He and Fuku both knew that she was not, by most definitions of the word, rambunctious at all. “Hope everything’s going well in school. I suck at math, but if you ever need help in literature, I’m your guy. I’d love to see you soon. I love you. Hugs and kisses from dad.”

He hung up and put down the phone. All he wanted to do was sleep. He went upstairs and didn’t even change into pajamas, just tossing his pants aside and passing out in a t shirt and boxers.

 

* * *

 

 

Meanwhile, downstairs, Gaster was thinking about what had just happened.

Grillby had a _daughter._ He had his own child, with someone else, without any idea that Sans and Papyrus were his own biological sons. Who was the other parent? Were they divorced, or did they… die? How much had happened while he was gone? He knew that Sans was in his late twenties by now, with Papyrus a few years younger. When he disappeared, Sans was six and Papyrus three. If he had been gone for about twenty years, this new child must be about… 18, maybe?

….The whole thing was a lot to take in.

What would happen if he came back? He’d basically turn into an unintentional stepfather, as well as returning to the role of father for his own sons. The question of what had happened to the other parent was still in his mind, too. Did Grillby actually get… remarried?

…Did he not keep Gaster’s ring? Did that ring still even _exist?_

The questions of all that had happened while he was gone kept him up all night in a continuous fit of anxiety. Things had just become much more complicated for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter, things will pick up the pace soon. for now i needed some character introductions and some plot establishment for what will happen next


	12. It's Not Filler I Swear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *deep breath*  
> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaoh my god i am so sorry for missing so many updates but! good news! ap testing hell is over and it should be easier till the end of the year (except finals...) but i will do my best to.... *try* to update more. also once this fic is over i've got a verrrry interesting one in the works ;)

Grillby woke up to find some texts from Fuku. Sent at 3 AM. He sighed. She’d clearly inherited his awful sleep schedule.

_hey dad sry i missed ur call i was out with asha_

_id love to visit tho does next saturday work?_

He picked up his phone and sat up.

_Sure, that works fine for me. I’ll see you then. Xoxo_

As he was getting dressed, a reply buzzed.

_dad omg nobody uses xo anymore_

_Yeah, I know. I’m doing it to embarrass you. It’s my job as a dad._

_glad my future kids wont have a dad to embarrass them_

_Oh, you’ll take up the responsibility with your future wife. Life finds a way._

_yeah yeah yeah_

_cya dad i gotta get to class_

_Have a nice day, pumpkin._

He put his phone in his pocket and went downstairs. It was nice talking to Fuku. They were both so busy that finding time for little conversations was a really nice thing. He made himself a quick breakfast and started to open up the bar. Gaster watched from the shadows, as usual. He felt sad, and… envious. He wished he could talk to his sons. He really missed them. He just wanted to see them again. It was… honestly awful not having them around. This was almost worse than being in the void without seeing them at all.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by Grillby.

“Morning G.” It was casual, said as if talking to a roommate. That was both comforting and painful. He went to the fridge.

_MORNING_

_HOW DID YOU SLEEP_

“Okay. I’m still pretty tired, though.” He takes another sip of his coffee, sitting on a chair close enough to see the fridge. “Actually, do you sleep? You’re a ghost, right?”

_I DONT KNOW IF IM A GHOST REALLY_

_AND I DONT REALLY SLEEP_

_I JUST GO UNCONSCIOUS SMETIME_

“Huh. That’s interesting.”

_YEAH_

_NOT REALLY ITS JUST KIND OF THERE_

Grillby really didn’t know what to say to that, so he just kind of nodded. Gaster felt himself droop a bit. He just wanted to talk and interact like they used to, but he couldn’t. He was worlds away and he just… wanted to be present. It was painful to be so distant. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to _have_ a home.

 

There had to be a way.

There had to be a way to come back. He came out of the void and became able to communicate, so he would be able to become remembered.

Or at least, he’d work his ass off to try.

He was filled with

_DETERMINATION._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, that was.... very, very short. i'm really sorry, i just needed a way to connect plot point A to plot point B.

**Author's Note:**

> please post comments and suggestions! and leave a kudos if you enjoyed <3  
> comments make my day!


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